Special
by Miss Aranel
Summary: On small Legolas' begetting day, his father tells him about the reasons for celebrating this very special day. Rating is higher than it has to be.


**Disclaimer: Thranduil, Legolas, Ilúvatar, Elbereth, and the concept of elves recognizing their conception/begetting days belong to the J.R.R. Tolkien Estate. **

**Note: **The rating for this piece is probably much higher than it has to be – the story focuses mainly around a begetting day talk – in other words, Thranduil is explaining to his son just how he came to be. However, Legolas is still rather small – so there are no intricate details to be found in the piece. I am not entirely sure how this is going to go over, but I thought I'd give it a try. 

~*~~*~~*~

It was early. Thranduil kept an arm over his eyes, partially blocking the thin shaft of sunlight that broke over his bed. It was early, yes, far too early for elflings to be awake and bouncing on their sleepy fathers' stomachs. 

"Ada," Legolas bounced again, then crawled off of his father and onto the bed, "Ada, wake up. It's my begetting day and Nana said you'd tell me a story about me."

One small finger pressed down on the end of Thranduil's nose, and soon he felt the child's face come very close to his own, "Ada, wake up."

"Wake up, Ada!" Legolas spoke louder, shaking his father's shoulder. Thranduil tried to hold back a laugh, managing to disguise it as a sudden snort. 

"You snore!" Legolas announced with sheer childish delight in the fact, "Just like a dwarf!" The elfling took to shaking his father again – but his ada was just not being very cooperative this morning. He had tried climbing on top of him, but that had not worked, and tickling him had not worked very well either. 

"Ada, wake up or I will bite you," Legolas bounced on the bed next to his father, who had rolled over, dragging the blankets over his head. 

Thranduil drew in a long breath, "And where would you bite me, Legolas?"

"On your toe," the elfling crawled to the other end of the bed, pushing at the blankets until he found one of his father's feet. He pinched his ada's largest toe between his small fingers, wiggling it back and forth, "This toe."

"Not that toe," Thranduil smirked to himself, amused that his son had not started jumping about and shouting 'you're awake, you're awake!' at the top of his lungs.

Legolas poked at one his ada's other toes, "How about this one?"

"Not that one either," Thranduil untangled one arm from the downy bedclothes, and then reached towards the floor for his bedroom slippers. 

"Which one then?" Legolas sighed, rolling over onto his stomach to peer down at the patterned rug that covered his parents' bedroom floor. There were lots of twisty lines and vines on it, and different colored leaves and birds. 

"None of them," Thranduil sat up, combing his hair out of his face with his fingers, "I do not think they would taste very good, and besides, you are not supposed to bite anyone, elfling." He reached for his son, tickling the child mercilessly for a moment before letting Legolas crawl onto his lap, "Happy begetting day, Legolas."

Legolas looked up at his father, grabbing at his own little green blanket, which had gotten tangled up with the dark covers on his parents' bed, "Will you tell me my story now?"

"What story?" Thranduil pretended not to know. 

"My story!" Legolas sat up straight again, "Nana said you were going to tell me a story about me, since it's my special day."

Thranduil let himself rest against the headboard of the bed, drumming his fingers lightly on the top of his son's head, "A story about Legolas…how would the one about him getting his hand stuck in the jam jar do? Or perhaps the one about him trying to lick his nose?"

"I know those stories," Legolas scowled at his father, beginning to get impatient, "Nana said that this was a special story. I don't think I know it yet."

"It would have to be a story about you when you were quite small for you not to remember it all by yourself," Thranduil rubbed a hand through his little son's hair. The story had already been picked out, of course, but he wanted to wait until the child had settled down to tell it. 

"Very small," Legolas nodded, wiggling about on his father's lap until he was comfortable, "I think it must be a story about when I was a baby."

Thranduil nodded slowly, "But before you were a baby, you were a thought." 

"A thought?" Legolas twisted around to look at his father, "That's silly. I would like to hear the story."

"Good," Thranduil smiled at the elfling, relaxing, "Before you were a baby, you were a thought…or perhaps more a wish. Now, have you ever had a very important wish, Legolas? Something that you desired so much that you could picture it in your head, that you dreamt about it at night?"

"Yes," Legolas nodded slowly, "For Yule I wanted my sled so much that I had dreams about going down the hill on it. I like that sled, except there's no snow for it now."

"There will be come winter," Thranduil grinned, continuing, "I think you understand though. Nana and I had a wish something like that, except we were wishing very much for a child." He shifted, turning Legolas on his lap so that he could see the elfling's face. His son was watching him carefully, interested in what he would say next, "We wanted a child very much, Legolas. Nana and I would sit together and talk about what it might be like to have another person in our family. Nana…Nana could imagine holding a little baby in her arms, singing songs, and we both could imagine loving this person very much."

"So then you picked a star, and told Elbereth that you wanted a baby, and she granted your wish, and then there was me," Legolas finished, quite proud of himself for figuring this out. 

Thranduil pressed his lips together for a moment, then looked down at his son again, "It is a little more complicated than that, Legolas. Elbereth is very powerful, and very important, but even she cannot give children to people."

"Where do you get them then?" Legolas stared up at his father, waiting. He knew, of course, that babies grew inside their mothers, but he still hadn't determined just how they'd gotten there in the first place. Elbereth had seemed a likely source. 

"Let me finish the story," Thranduil responded, again brushing a hand through his son's hair, "Nana and I wanted a baby very much…"

"You already said that," Legolas interrupted, grabbing for his blanket again and picking at a loose thread of embroidery floss. Nana had stitched little leaves all about the border. 'Little leaves for my little Green Leaf,' she told him. He peered up at his father again, "I want to know how I got here."

Thranduil nodded, "All right; I am getting to that. When a mother and a father want a baby very much, like Nana and I did, they…"

"They get cozy," Legolas supplied readily, glancing up at his father for agreement. 

Thranduil felt his forehead wrinkle. First Elbereth, and now this…where was Legolas getting his information from? He felt himself relax upon remembering a trip with Legolas to the rabbit hutches not so very long ago. "Yes," he nodded, "When a mother and a father would like a baby, they get very cozy because…"

"Like that time when I wanted to sleep in your bed because I had a bad dream, and you and Nana were all snuggly in bed, and you said, 'Just wait, Legolas, Nana and I are very cozy right now, but we will make room for you while you go get your pillow and blanket'?" Legolas interrupted in a rush. Nana and Ada had seemed awfully snuggly and cozy that time. 

"Yes," Thranduil nodded, slightly flustered at the memory, "People who are married get very cozy like that to show that they love each other. Now, as I was saying, when a mother and a father want a baby, they get very cozy because babies must be conceived in love." 

"What's 'conceived'?" Legolas interrupted yet again. He knew that his conception day was the day he _started_, but he had a feeling that there was much more to do with it than that. 

"To 'conceive' is to imagine or to start something, something very special, like a baby," Thranduil answered, beginning to wonder if the story would ever get told. His wife had seemed quite sure that this was the time to share all of these things with their son, but he couldn't help thinking that perhaps Legolas could wait another year. Babies could come from Elbereth. That worked…or not. "When you were conceived, Nana and I got very cozy, and then we asked Ilúvatar for a baby."

"So He's the one!" Legolas exclaimed. 

"Yes," Thranduil nodded again, waiting for his son to settle down, "Only Ilúvatar can give babies to people."

"So you and Nana asked Ilúvatar for a baby, and He put me inside Nana for you," Legolas expanded the story. 

Thranduil glanced towards the ceiling, then back down at his son, "No. When Nana and I wanted a baby, I put a special little piece of myself inside Nana, and it waited there with a special little piece of her. It is up to Ilúvatar to put those two little pieces together to make a baby." He paused, waiting to find out if Legolas was going to ask just how he put a little piece of himself inside Nana. Hopefully – hopefully – that could wait at least another year. Perhaps Nana would like to give the begetting day talk next year…

"So," Legolas drew out the word slowly, picking at the edge of his green blanket again, "So I am from a little piece of you and a little piece of Nana put together?" It was strange to think about that, but for some reason it seemed much more special than just being made out of nothing by Ilúvatar. 

"Yes," Thranduil pulled his son closer, "I think…I think that it is quite amazing, Legolas, that Ilúvatar can take those special little pieces and put them together just like that. Sometimes He puts them together, and sometimes He does not – and when He does, it is very special." Legolas was very quiet now, snuggled close on his lap, staring up at him with a pleased little smile. Thranduil smiled back, continuing, "When Nana and I asked, Ilúvatar said 'yes'. I wanted you, and Nana wanted you, and Ilúvatar – as big and powerful and far away as He is – must have wanted you too. That is how special you are. It was very special when those two little pieces got put together to make a wonderful new person, and we call that conception. That is what celebrating your conception day, your begetting day, is all about."

"It's special," Legolas repeated quietly, liking to hear that spoken out loud. 

Thranduil nodded yet again, hugging his son, "Your special day. Nana and I were very excited and happy. Just consider how exciting it was to think that there was a perfectly new little person starting to grow inside Nana, a perfectly new baby for our family. 

"So then, as you know, you grew and grew inside Nana, and then you were born. Just as we have told you before, we were so happy to see you for the very first time."

"What did I look like?" Legolas peered up at his father, one small hand rubbing at his nose, "When I was a little baby, I mean."

"The very first time I really looked at you was the first time I held you," Thranduil began, patting his son's shoulders, "You were all wrapped up in a green blanket, but not the blanket that you like so much. You had wrinkly little pink feet, and wrinkly little pink hands…actually, you were little and wrinkly and pink all over." He paused to chuckle slightly with Legolas. "First you looked at me, and then you yawned, such a big yawn for such a little person…and you closed your eyes and went to sleep. You slept quite a bit after that; I think it was one of your most favorite things to do."

Legolas snorted, grabbing at his blanket and stretching it over his feet, "I don't like to go to sleep like that now. I'm glad I'm not a baby anymore." 

"I am too," Thranduil agreed, "When you were a baby, Nana and I would sit right here and look at you, thinking about how wonderful it was to have you in our family. But since then you have grown and grown into the elfling that you are now, an elfling who we can talk to, and share and do things with. You have always been very special to Nana and to me, and we love you very much. You are someone very special right now, and when you grow up, you will still be very special. Do not ever forget that."

"I won't," Legolas assured his father, feeling very special indeed right now. He pushed a strand of blond hair out of his eyes, glancing up at his Ada, "Is that the end of the story?" 

Thranduil began to get up from the bed, "That was only the very beginning of the story, Legolas. You get to decide what happens next."

Legolas let his father pick him up, "Do you think it will be a good story?"

"I think it will be a very good story," Thranduil smiled easily, "A very, very good story."

~*~~*~~*~

**Author's Notes: **

**Elbereth** (Varda) is the Vala of the stars, and probably the most often mentioned Vala (higher power). 

**Ilúvatar** ('The One', Eru) is considered the supreme creator. 

-Tolkien does not mention the role of any higher powers in the conception of an elf child – for this piece, you may regard Thranduil's inclusion of Ilúvatar as a general belief among most elves or as a personal belief he is passing on to his child (similar to the way a Christian parent might include God in such a talk).

However, Tolkien did mention that elven parents stated that they were _given_ a child (not that they _had_ a child), which leads me to think that most of them considered higher powers playing some role. 

-Legolas' mother is not present for the talk because I wanted the story to work in and out of my own little universe. 

-If you have read "The Light of Sons" and are taking this story in the context of that one, you may have quite a list of contradictions blooming in your head. I'd be happy to address these in an email (aranels@hotmail.com), since it would take up quite a lot of space here. 


End file.
